Secrets of Gakuen Hetalia
by BeautyInSmallThings
Summary: Alice Kirkland is confused. What is it about Amelia Jones that makes her feel so... different? What happened last semester that has led to the hatred between Amelia and the Russian girl, Anastasia Brandinsky? Why does Alice feel like she has a secret that she's hiding even from herself? Fem!Everyone, USUK, RusAme and others.
1. Chapter 1

It was the first day of the new semester at the World Academy and the remaining warmth of sultry summer hung in the air. An abundance of expensive cars rolled over the gravel drive which was bathed in intense sunlight that kissed the numerous bodies of teenage girls, who were all sharply dressed in the academy uniform of a white shirt and red plaid skirt.

Feigning nonchalance, a blonde-haired girl readjusted her drooping pigtails and sat her glasses on the rising bridge of her nose. She longed to leave the noisy crowd and arrive at the peaceful library, take in the musty smell of books and settle down with a hard backed classic (Jane Eyre was her personal favourite).

"Yo, Alice!" Another girl exclaimed in loud voice which was tinted with the lilt of an American accent. The girl's name was Amelia Jones and she bounded with the endless energy of an over-excited puppy to the studious Alice.

Inwardly groaning, Alice greeted her friend. "Good morning, Amelia." She rendered incapable to keeping the annoyance out of her voice which was punctuated by an upper-class English accent. As usual, the American didn't take the hint.

"Dude, how was your vacation? Mine was AWESOME! We went to LA! It was so totally cool, you should have been there! Check out my tan!" Her voice seemed to drown out everyone else's within a fifty foot radius and people were beginning to stare.

Alice Kirkland's cheeks began to turn a shade of fuchsia as she awkwardly averted her eyes from her American acquaintance, willing herself to get sucked into the gravel, never to be seen again being out in public was unpleasant but bearable; being noticed was a completely different matter.

"Yes, Amelia, your tan is very nice." Alice replied, seemingly customarily.

In actual fact, Alice had noticed the golden glow of the American's complexion. Alice was usually remarkably unobservant since her mind was often occupied by other things but when it came to Amelia she was different. She noticed the slightest change in Amelia's appearance, from the most obvious (a new ear-piercing) to the subtlest of alterations (like her thick, copper-coloured ponytail being slightly off-centre). Why did Amelia make her behave in such an abnormal manner? Alice despaired of herself sometimes; it was like she subconsciously hid things from herself. Sometimes, Alice had a peculiar feeling that she was hiding something, only she didn't know what.

"Do stop calling me 'Dude' though; it's unbelievably irritating. Do I look like a male to you?"

"Yeah- your eyebrows look like they're on steroids!"

"Shut up, you bloody twat! Leave my eyebrows alone."

"LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!" The American's yells could have been heard in the neighbouring village.

"Who the hell is Britney?"

"Wow, bro, you're clueless!"

"I'm no relative of yours, thank you very much."

"Alrighty, _Al__icia_."

"Lady Alicia to you," Alice grumbled as she unusually mentioned her high-class heritage before following the American, whose copper-blonde ponytail swung from side to side with every energised step.

Though she would never admit it, Alice wished that she had hair like Amelia's. She looked down at her own lifeless pigtails and let out a groan of disappointment as she rubbed her long, pale finger against frame of her dark, half-rimmed glasses.

Alice's reflexes weren't good at the best of times so when Amelia stopped abruptly in her tracks, Alice crashed into the copper-haired girl's back with a thump. Amelia never flinched.

"Bloody hell, . What are you playing at?" Alice's grumpy voice trailed off as she stumbled in surprise when she saw the poisonous glares Amelia was sending into the crowd.

"I thought she left last semester. What's she doing here?" Amelia's usually cheery tone had suddenly transformed into a snake's hiss that was full of white-hot hatred.

Alice followed Amelia's cerulean blue eyes and her multitudinous eyebrows shot up in surprise as she saw exactly what (or who) was the subject of Amelia's scathing glares.

In the centre of the crowd stood Anastasia Brandinsky. The silver-haired girl towered above the other students and her ethereal locks tumbled down to her hips, which were clothed by a shapeless coat. Her skin shone like glimmering pearls but was hidden under her coat, gloves, scarf and fur-trimmed boots despite the warm heat. What was the real attention-grabber were her eyes. They were clairvoyant's orbs- coloured a delicate violet and framed by voluminous, sooty lashes. They would have been beautiful if they weren't so intense and unsettlingly wide. Her pupils dilated into black holes and the moment Anastasia and Alice's eyes connected, chills crawled up the British girl's spine. Anastasia was surrounded by three shorter students who were in the year below Anastasia's and they cowered underneath the silver-haired girl with wide-eyed fear as they held her luggage in trembling hands.

"That Russian bitch," Amelia muttered uncharacteristically, "she said she was leaving, she said she was!"

"Just ignore her, come on." Alice said before giving the American a sharp tug on her blazer sleeve.

With one final, furious glare, Amelia stormed into the Academy itself, and up to her room, which was situated on the third floor dorms.

Alice's mind was a blurry mess of questions. Why would Amelia (who was usually so care-free and happy) react like that? As far as Alice knew, there had been no hatred between them in the previous semester. She hadn't even seen Anastasia voluntarily talk to anyone but the three younger, servant-like girls who had held her luggage and were always milling around the Russian with fear-stricken expressions on their blood-drained faces.

Making a mental note not to mention the Russian again, Alice darted after her friend's receding shadow.

**Thank you so much for clicking on this fan-fiction! It's my first one and I'm excited and nervous for how it goes. Whatever your opinion is, please post it in a review and follow/favourite if you thought it was worthy. If you'd like me to include a particular character or pairing then please put your thoughts into a review. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

Alice Kirkland's oak leaf coloured eyes stared up to the ceiling of her dorm. Her vision delved into the 'W' shaped cracks that littered the white plaster. Her eyelids closed and her vision was immersed by darkness. Taking several deep breaths like she'd seen the Japanese girl, Sakura Honda, do when she was meditating, Alice let her breath (which smelt like mint toothpaste) escape her slightly open mouth. Though she was trying to silence the incessant babble of her mind, Amelia's sun-kissed face kept on flashing in front of her eyes. Alice turned over so her face was pressed into the airy scent of her pillow. In the annoyance of her failure at meditating, Alice let out a soft moan.

"Tell your man to slow down, Alice. I can hear you in the hallway." Amelia's voice rang out, disrupting the quiet of the British girl's dorm.

"Shut up, you sick-minded wanker!"

Without bothering to knock, the American entered Alice's dorm, seemingly calmer than out on the drive. Where most of the girls of Gakuen Academy looked like children in the the plaid patterned uniform, Amelia Jones made it look impossibly stylish. Her copper-blonde ponytail poured onto the collar of the white shirt which stretched over her voluptuous chest and clung to her flat stomach. The red plaid skirt hugged the sloping curve of her hips and was hitched just a little higher than most girls, which resulted in exhibition of her toned, beguiling legs.

Alice's gaze flickered away from her friend as she was reminded that the American's figure was far superior to her own. The British girl sat up from her flat position on the bed. Her yellowy-blonde pigtails sat on her flat chest and her skirt and shirt hung lifelessly off her body. Despite her lack of feminine curves, there was something of an elegance about her willowy body. Alice never saw elegance in her body; she saw a psychologically mature girl trapped in a body with the figure of a skinny child. She hated it.

Amelia sat on the end of the bed, next to her friend and frowned. In the low light, Alice could see the contours and soft shadows of the American girls face. The copper-haired girl let out a sigh that conveyed anger and sadness. Alice's eyes implored into her friend's.

"Alice," Amelia seemed to taste the word on her tongue, letting each syllable breath, "I'm sorry for earlier; I shouldn't have gotten so pissed off, y'know. I just..." Her voice trailed off into the shadowy darkness of Alice's dorm.

Alice took a chance. "What happened last semester? Why do you dislike her so much?"

For a moment, Amelia looked like she was going to answer but the words stuck to the inside of her throat like glue and her tongue dried out like the desert. The only words she managed to stammer were: "I can't... nothing, nothing really..."

Alice's grass-green eyes widened. This wasn't a petty fight that would be resolved within a week; this was serious. Alice stared at Amelia, who looked suddenly a lot older than she was. Worry creased her usually youthful-looking face. Sadness weighed down her drooping mouth. Secrets behind locked doors hid in her coppery hair. The American had never looked less like herself.

Blood stained Amelia's soul as an internal battle of whether to confess the secrets to her friend or not raged on. She so wanted to tell Alice and she tried to form the words in her head but when she opened her mouth nothing but silence escaped it. The words sat heavily in her stomach, teasing her with their existence knowing that she would never be able to speak them.

"You can tell me, you know." The British girl's words were softly spoken and they glided across the tense atmosphere of the room like swan on water.

"I know," The American sighed, escaping the Briton's earnest gaze out of fear that the words would tumble out of her mouth before she could stop them. As much as Amelia wanted to tell Alice her secret she didn't want to either. Amelia hadn't told anyone. The secret grew larger in its locked cage every day and now it had practically taken over her. It was like an immense weight she was constantly carrying which, although it made her shoulders ache, she would not let go for fear she wouldn't be able to pick it up again.

Long held back tears glazed over Amelia's azure eyes. As soon she felt the misty tears fall down her face like raindrops Amelia rushed out of the room, not wanting her friend to see. As she stumbled out into the corridor the tears were already bleeding down from her eyes, catching in her long lashes and falling down the face. The blue-eyed girl slammed her the door of her dorm room behind her, buried her face in the soft pillow and sobbed. With every fragmented gasp for breath, her whole body shook. Amelia felt like a pencil and as the Russian pressed down on her, the lead inside her was snapping and the tip of the pencil was crumbling. If the Anastasia pushed harder, the American would snap.

Alice remained sat on the bed, scarcely blinking. Everything had happened too fast. One minute, Amelia had been sat with her; the next, she was gone. Alice's bright green eyes flickered up to the door, which swung slightly ajar. Alice took a deep breath as she went over the previous events in her mind. Then, she realised something:

When she left the room, Amelia had been crying.

Anastasia Brandinsky had made Amelia Jones cry.

No one did that, no one.

With a start, Alice rose from the bed. Her face was twisted into an angry look of burning hatred. She marched out of her dorm room, slamming the door behind her. Several students turned to look but their vision bounced off Alice's suddenly impenetrable shell. Alice didn't care. They could stare at her all day for all she was bothered.

The sound of her echoing footsteps was filled with a newly-found confidence. Pure anger fuelled the English girl's stride and when she saw the Russian stood in the main corridor of the Academy, Alice's footsteps quickened and her frown deepened and the fury inside her flared. The detest which Alice felt was alien to her. Though passionate in her opinions at times, the English girl had never been seen by others as _hateful_.

She was but a few metres away from Anastasia and the distance between them was rapidly decreasing. Anastasia's violet eyes fell onto the blonde-haired girl's face.

"Oh, hello, Alice Kirkland. Are you all right? You look a bit-" She never finished her sentence- she was cut off as the short English girl's fist collided with the the milk-coloured face of Anastasia Brandinsky.

**Well this has been a rather dramatic chapter. **

**Please review, it means so much. Constructive critisism is so helpful; please share any advice regarding how to improve my story.**

**If you want a particular pairing or character to appear then feel free to recommend it. I'll try and work pairings in wherever I can. **

**Thanks for the support!**


	3. Chapter 3

Alice Kirkland was famous for being a studious, straight A student. She was mostly quiet, though she occasionally shocked everyone by being her real, sarcastic, foul-mouthed self. With a non-existent social life and her second home being at the Academy's library, her friendship with the notoriously loud, humorously ignorant American whose A grade was only in burger eating competitions (fourteen in one minute was her record), was a surprising one. Frankly, whenever people saw the two chatting with ease they showed the same amount of disbelief as they would if the Academy's man-eater (Celeste Bonnefay) claimed to have given up sex.

In short, Alice Kirkland was hardly the sort that people associated with violet outbursts which involved punching six-foot Russians. When the rumour mill spread the news, people laughed and the whole thing was downgraded to being a silly piece of false gossip.

Though she laughed about it years later, at the time Alice was furious. Why did Anastasia not hit her back? It's not like she wasn't strong enough. If she had wanted to, the silver-haired girl could have knocked the English girl unconscious, so why didn't she? When the punch had been delivered Anastasia had just stood there and looked Alice right in the eye. There was no doubt that the Russian girl knew exactly why Alice had punched her. It was as if Anastasia had been making a mental note to do something. Either way, her mind was else where. Alice was the first to break the eye contact between the two. She noticed the three younger girls who acted as the Russian's servants, moreover, she noticed their expressions. The light behind their eyes was one of satisfaction and admiration.

Alice had never felt that before. She didn't know what it felt like to be admired- she had always been witness to the girls who would stare at Amelia with wonderment in their eyes at the American's effortless charisma, bursting confidence and broad grin. Alice had never been the recipient of such appreciation; instead she had always been the one stood in the background, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly and averting her eyes as if she had intruded on a private moment.

In the moment when the Lithuanian, Estonian and Latvian had stared at her, Alice felt alive. She felt so tall, so powerful. She gave the Russian one final glare of disgust before marching off to her dorm. She noticed the corridor was silent as the crowd jumped out her way when she walked to her dorm. As her eyes took in the seemingly innumerable faces in the crowd, Alice noticed Sakura Honda.

The Japanese girl's slanting, almond-shaped eyes were a little darker than usual and were punctuated by a slight frown. Her rosebud mouth was ever so slightly pursed and Alice couldn't help but feel that the black-haired girl exhibited disappointment.

Ignoring the crowd and Anastasia and Sakura, Alice stormed up the staircase and shattered the silence with the slam of her dorm room door.

Alice closed her eyes and let out a deep long sigh before collapsing into a chair. There was still unpacking to me done, a certain American to cheer up (going to McDonalds together would probably do the trick) and the repetitive small-talk that needed to be done to maintain relationships with those she was on good terms with (the English girl didn't have many friends so 'those she was on good terms with' were the closest she could get).

She chuckled as she remembered the two new years resolutions she made: 'be nicer to people' and 'get more friends'. 'Be nicer people' was ironic, she supposed, since she had just punched someone and 'get more friends' was sad in itself. Feeling like a hopeless case, Alice decided to cheer herself up by paying the library a visit. At least she would have an alibi if she was questioned by the staff for her act of violence in the corridor.

Alice loved the Academy's library; it was so peaceful. She loved the way the sunlight light flooded into the room and tinted the warm colours with a kiss of gold, the musty smell of dusty hardbacks and the sound of silence which was broken only by the rustle of turning pages.

As Alice entered through the large archway she found herself swathed in treasured silence that was, in the noisy Academy, often hard to find. Inhaling the sweet smell of aged books, she made her way over the 'classics' section. Marvelling at the gold-lettered titles, she ran her fingertips against the spines of the hardbacks with closed eyes and a quiet sigh of pleasure. Upon taking from the shelf a copy of Pride and Prejudice, she flopped into a padded library chair, cracked open the book and began to read.

Alone time was Alice's favourite time. As much as she enjoyed the company of her American friend, she was naturally very introverted thus she took pleasure in moments when she was completely alone and away from the forced formalities and tedious small-talk that came with socialisation. Alice felt her heartbeat slow down, my breathing become calm and her body relax. This tranquillity was broken when a voice (enunciated with the irregular peaks of an Italian accent) shattered the silence.

"Greta, Greta! I can't find the cooking books!"

With a peeved expression on her pointed face, Alice turned to the direction of the noise. Her eyes were narrowed as she scoured for the culprit of the interruption. Her face softened when she saw the olive-toned complexion, large green eyes and bouncy brown hair of Felicia Veneziano- no one could angry at the Italian for long.

"Okay, okay. I'm coming, Felicia." A short-haired blonde grumbled as she joined the Italian who was flapping her arms around wildly in her desperation. The blonde's voice was covered with a thick German accent and her face displayed a frown that somehow conveyed pity as well as annoyance. Surprisingly, the German's eyes were filled with a sort of fondness for the Italian in front of her.

Normally, Alice took no interest in the life of her classmates and would much rather stick to her own but suddenly she was interested in the conversation between the German and the Italian. Perhaps she was just trying to distract herself from her own worries and problems but she didn't care. Subtly as she could, she watched the pair.

"I thought you used cooking books before." The short-haired German stated. Her eyes flickered around in an embarrassed manner, well aware that in the still silence all eyes were on her and her pasta-loving friend.

"No, no! I just went by my estimates!" The Italian cried, high-pitched voice echoing through the large room.

"It sounds a little... imprecise, doesn't it?"

"You mean you don't like my pasta!"

The German sighed, "of course I like your pasta. I don't know that much about cooking, but I can cook Bratwurst very well."

"I know you can, Greta. You are a very good cook!"

"Err... thanks, Felicia. Um, can you be quieter though... everyone's looking at us." The blonde whispered.

Felicia Veneziano pressed her hands against her mouth in over-dramatic shock. "Sorry, Greta."

The German did a little half-smile before scouring the shelves for a suitable cookbook, which Alice decided was a good time to point them in the right direction without showing that she had been listening.

She sidled up to them awkwardly. "Err... are you looking for the cookery section?"

"Si! Do you know where it is? Oh, please say you know!" Felicia's loud, high voice rang out and Greta face-palmed herself.

"It's over there," Alice said as she pointed to a shelf crammed with thick and irregularly placed books.

The Italian cheered as she skipped over to the said shelf and began marvelling at the guides, reading aloud to herself. Greta threw Alice a rare smile.

"Thanks, Alice."

"No problem," the English girl replied. "I come here pretty much every day so I know where everything is." Her cheeks flushed pink when it occurred to her that she had pretty much admitted to having a very limited social life and she quickly nodded to Greta before walking, a little too fast, back to her seat.

After avoiding eye-contact for several minutes, Alice finally looked up. The two girls were no longer in the library itself, but out in the secluded corridor that led to the library. The German had her arms wrapped protectively around the Italian, resting in the kink of the brunette's pinched waist. The Italian's arms were placed on the German's broad hips and the two were staring into each other's eyes as an earnest smile played on the German's lips as if the blonde wasn't even aware it forming on her pale face. The expression on the two girls' faces was unlike anything Alice had seen before- she had never seen her parents with that twinkle in their eyes and the glow behind the coloured iris which was displayed on the couple stood under the archway. As if in-sync with each other, their eyes fluttered closed at the same time as they engaged in a long-held kiss. Every pull of their locked lips held the notes of, not passion, but love; that one word with said nothing and everything at the same time; that word which is so frequently over-used but when used correctly, is so profound and impossibly beautiful. The protectiveness that Greta exhibited as she held Felicia close to her as their bodies softly, slowly pressed together and the blissful look on Felicia's face as the two kissed could only be described as love in its purest form.

The English girl silently smiled to herself as her eyes lowered back to her book. A warm feeling settled in her stomach at the deep beauty that she had just been lucky enough to witness.

**Thanks for those of you who recommended GerIta. I hope I have done the pairing justice!**

**As always, please post a review! Constructive criticism is appreciated!**

**Just to let you know, I'll probably be posting a new chapter every two days and I will try as hard as I can to keep to that schedule.**


	4. Chapter 4

With enough sense not to mention Anastasia, Alice decided to pretend that the conversation between Amelia and herself never happened. It wasn't that Alice _wanted _to pretend; she thought that Amelia would prefer it. In actual fact, Alice wanted more than anything to know. She wanted to help Amelia; she wanted to hug her as she cried; she wanted to tell her that everything would be okay; she wanted to make her a hot chocolate and put whipped cream and marshmallows on it; she wanted Amelia to thank her in between sobs; she wanted to dry her American friend's tears; she wanted to be there for her.

Alice didn't know why she wanted this so much. She convinced herself that it was just a natural, good-hearted urge to help her friend in her hour of need but inside, deep inside, she knew very well that it wasn't. The English girl knew herself well enough to know that whatever she felt would not be completely selfless. Perhaps she wanted to glorify herself or to feel loved. She doubted that too. It wasn't that she thought herself above attention-seeking since she was well aware that she had many flaws - cynical, foul-mouthed, socially awkward, unsociable - but being an attention-seeker wasn't one of them. Her urge ran deep than that; deeper than Alice cared to think about.

To Alice, her mind was like a mine; the deeper she went, the more dangerous it became. Alice didn't want to go to deep into her mind. She liked to think she knew herself, but somehow she knew she didn't. She was a stranger to herself. She'd rather stay on the surface, which was something she knew. She tried to think one-dimensionally and have a good or bad; a yes or a no; a this or a that. The English girl didn't want to think about the in between.

When it came to the subject of Amelia Jones, however, Alice knew that her surface feelings were not her true ones. Of course Amelia was different. From the moment Alice saw her with that confident grin on her face and heard her loud voice, Alice knew she was different. The American was like no one Alice knew. She was bold and feisty and surprisingly sweet at the same time and Alice loved that. When people first met the American they thought she was nothing but an air-headed ditz with flashy teeth and a voice too loud for her own good. Alice saw her differently; she saw that all Amelia wanted to do was please others; if she ever hurt anyone it was never on purpose; she just wanted to be 'the hero', as the American put it herself.

It was quarter past three in the morning and Alice couldn't get to sleep. She didn't understand why she couldn't get to sleep; she was exhausted. Every muscle in Alice's skinny body ached and her headache felt like needles were being slowly rotated in her brain. Alice pressed her face into the pillow and listened to the onslaught of rain thumping against the window.

She turned herself over. The ends of her long, blonde hair tickled at her pointed chin and she longed to just go to sleep. As exhausted as her body may have been, her mind was still very much awake. It reminded her of the last grade she received for her English Literature course- a B.

Alice had never gotten a B for English in her life.

She felt like she was slipping; like she was falling. She could feel herself tumbling in the air, the force of herself sinking down through the air like a stone might sink in water; as the world blew past in an undecipherable blur she wondered when she would hit the ground. All she could see was the hazy copper-gold colour of the dying sun before a large cloud, silvery white and silent, crawled over the sun like a disease. The cloud had always been there but Alice had never really noticed before.

Terrified by these visions, Alice fell into uneven sleep which was, even in her exhausted manner, was disturbed by the imagination of her subconscious. Dreams were pushed behind Alice's closed eyelids:

_It was a warm day and the English girl laid on the rolling hills of the Yorkshire Moors. Her limbs were splayed out and her eyes were closed. The warmth from the wedding-ring sun filled her body. Letting the hazy sunlight rush through her veins, the blonde felt every muscle in her body relax. She let a long breath escape from her small mouth._

_"Alice," a voice rang out._

_Letting one eyelid creep open, Alice saw the approaching American sit down amongst the daisies, next to herself. The American's hair was loose for a change and was like liquid gold as the sunlight bounced off it, creating little golden reflections dance around the mossy-green grass. The golden-haired girl was clad in a white cotton dress. Her body seemed to be glowing against the simple white cotton. She looked like a goddess._

_Throwing her trademark grin at the English girl, the American laid down next to her. Alice could feel the warmth of the American's legs against her own. It was nice, just really nice._

_"England is so pretty in summer," she stated. Alice watched the her lips move as she drew out every syllable in her American accent. How could she have ever found her accent annoying? The American's voice was beautiful. It was like a landscape- with hidden dips and rising hills and cavernous valleys as well as little words that she pronounced in her own way._

_"I don't often spend time in the countryside. My family like me to live in London, with them." The English girl found herself confessing. There was something relaxing about the copper-haired girl's presence. Alice felt like herself around the American; it was something she never felt when she was with others. Then again, Amelia was different. Amelia had always been different._

_The American smiled knowingly. It was the same situation for her too. A few seconds passed before she spoke. "We could have a holiday out here some time, if you want. Just you and me- together."_

_Alice felt her heart beat a little faster. 'Together', that word sounded so perfect._

_"Would you like that?" The American's face turned to Alice's. It was barely centimetres away. Alice could feel the copper-haired girl's soft breath against her face. Their noses were almost touching. There was an instinct in the English girl that was telling her to lean in; to kiss her; to feel her warm lips against her own._

_Alice moved a little closer. Her body pressed against Amelia's. The girl was so warm. Placing her arm on the back of the American's cotton dress, Alice pulled the girl a little closer. Her own leaf-green eyes bore into Amelia's own cerulean pair before her eyes gently closed as her lips locked with the copper-haired girl's._

_Nothing had ever felt so right._

Alice's eyes fluttered open as the ringing of her alarm clock sliced through the air and into the English girl's dream. Taking in her surroundings, Alice let out a deep of disappointment as she realised the dream wasn't real. How she wanted it to be real.

Groggily, Alice turned off the alarm before sitting up in bed with a start as she realised exactly what she had dreamed of. Alice's head shook with disbelief and her breaths were short and sharp. Why Amelia? Why, of all the girls she could have dreamed about, why did it have to be Amelia? Alice was sure that Amelia didn't feel the same way. Why would she- she could have any guy she wanted. Alice hugged her knees and a milky tear dribbled down her cheek. She didn't stand a chance.

Why should she take notice of a dream anyway? It was just a dream- it didn't mean anything at all. Alice's denial failed as the phrase from one of her spiritual guide books rang in her ear 'dreams are the image of the subconscious'. So did Alice's subconscious want to be with Amelia Jones?

Interrupting her thoughts, knuckles knocked against the door. Too tired and full of thoughts to wonder who it was, Alice pulled her dorm door open sharply.

Stood just outside was Amelia Jones, clad in the same t-shirt, jacket and denim shorts that she wore yesterday. Her hair was tied up in a skyscraping ponytail- not exactly the cotton-clad angel Alice dreamed of last night, but still alight with her bold, honest grin and that was angel enough for Alice. "Morning, bro- you might wanna brush your hair, bed-head. You look totally messed up!"

If only you knew how much, Alice thought as she walked away to grab a hairbrush.

**Hi, everyone. Thanks again for all the lovely support I've received in the reviews section. It means so much to me that you enjoy it! As always, please tell me any other pairings or character you'd like to see in this fan-fiction! **

**Just to clarify, when I wrote that Alice agreed with Amelia that she was 'messed up' but not for the reason Amelia was talking about, I wasn't referring to her feelings for someone of the same gender but because Alice was so confused about everything. I hope I never offended anyone and if I did then I promise it wasn't intentional. **

**Reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

Walking down to breakfast, Alice saw that the bruising on Anastasia's face was beginning to go down. She felt guilty, in a way- she knew it was wrong of her to punch the Russian girl. She just remembered being so angry, like a flame had errupted inside her that she never knew was there. She couldn't help but feel a little bit proud though. After all, no one really noticed her and suddenly, she had done something no one expected.

"Hey, Alice Kirkland!" A girl with a wild mane of white hair and scarlet eyes jumped in front of the English girl as she walked to breakfast. "The awesome me wants to ask you something."

"I don't even know who you are."

The white-haired girl's eyes widened dramatically and she staggered back a little as if Alice's statement had physically hurt her. "WHAT? How can you not know of the awesome me? "

"She's Maria Beilschmidt. She's in some of my classes."

"Well I'm glad SOMEONE knows of the awesome me!"

"Tell the 'awesome you' to stop getting off-topic; you said you were going to ask me something." Though she did it herself, Alice hated it when people got distracted and lost their train of though- it made things take so much longer.

"Ah yes, it seems my sheer awesomeness overwhelmed even myself for a moment there, kesesesese. Anyway, I wanted to ask you: did you punch Anastasia Branginsky? You know, that completely UNAWESOME person with the creepy eyes. I hope you did- maybe you punched some of the unawesomeness out of her."

"Da, she did," said a voice behind Alice and Amelia. The words were slow and rolling with an accent- a thick, Russian accent.

Alice span around and looked up to see the towering, silver-haired girl that was Anastasia Branginsky. Amelia's eyes narrowed, but her heart hammered in her chest. Though the American looked like she was angry and the Russian, in actual fact she was just scared. Fear was something Amelia Jones was unacquainted with; the American saw fear as a weakness and something she could do without. Heroes weren't afraid, so why would she want to be?

"Well I hope it hurt," Maria retorted. Her tone hung with the stubborn impatience tone of a child.

To that the Russian just laughed. Hollow and menacing, the laugh splintered any courage Alice Kirkland had against Anastasia. She felt her pulse against the sleeve of her white shirt and her face beginning to pale.

"Are you trying to intimidate me? Well, you're failing; your unawesomeness is the only scary thing about you. Apart from your face, of course."

"I'll take that as a compliment, for your sake." The Russian girl's voice chimed hauntingly through the air.

"Do what you want, Branginsky, but don't do it for my sake. I don't want your actions blamed on me."

It was at this point that the Russian turned away from the East German girl. To Anastasia the girl simply disappeared- she couldn't see Maria, nor could she she hear a word she said- because to her, Maria didn't exist any more. Instead, the silver-haired girl's attention was placed entirely on Alice and Amelia. The smile on her round face was fixed on but her eyes had darkened to a dark and brooding purple. She wasn't playing games any more.

"Look, Alice, Amelia, I'm going to put this bluntly, da? I think our arguing is silly and we should be friends. If not friends then nothing, but I don't want to enemies any longer. The whole thing is crazy to me; I don't even know why we're enemies in the first place."

A dark look crossed Amelia's face and the light left her eyes. Her normally light cerulean iris were replaced with a dark, angry blue like the sea in a storm. "Don't lie, Branginsky; of course you know why we're enemies. You know perfectly well why."

"Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten." The words (tipped slightly off their accent with a mixture of Russian accent and eerie menace) were drawn out slowly.

"Would you care to enlighten me? Don't forget Alice; I'm sure she'd like to know as well."

"How do you know I haven't told her already?"

The laugh again. "Hmm, seems like you have forgotten how well I know you. We might not be friends any more but I still know you well. You haven't changed a bit, I doubt you ever will."

"Don't flatter yourself, Branginsky. You don't know as much as you might want to think."

"I know more than Alice does.. though we could change that, da? I mean, it's only fair that she knows and since you haven't told her..."

"Shut up, Branginsky! You know nothing, NOTHING!" Amelia face convulsed angrily as she screamed. Passers by span around to the direction of the noise but all they saw was a copper-haired American storming through the crowd, pulling the glasses-wearing Brit behind her.

"Amelia?" Alice whispered.

"Alice, I'm sorry. I can't, Ali. I just can't."

"I understand."

"No you don't."

"You're right, I don't. I can bloody well try."

At the English girl's earnest words a smile cracked on Amelia's face. She blinked, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. With reminisant snail-trails of angry tears glistening against her golden complexion and ahalf-hearted smile on her heart-shaped face, Alice thought Amelia looked beautiful.

Amelia Jones, Alice decided, had a talent for looking beautiful no matter what she was doing. For some reason, Alice didn't feel envious of her friend's beauty any more-it was more a feeling of pride, for some reason Alice couldn't explain.

"I love you," Alice whispered before slapping a hand to her mouth. How could those words have escaped her? She felt her cheeks begin to burn red as Maria Beilschmidt's eyes.

Thankfully for Alice, the American had her head turned and had seemingly had not heard. Alice just caught her sigh of relief before it escaped her mouth.

"I'm getting pissed off at everything at this academy," Amelia stated. "You wanna go into town? I need a few things."

"You mean you want to go shopping," the blonde replied dismally.

"No... somewhat... slightly... a bit."

Alice let out a groan; she wasn't exactly shopping sort of person. She didn't want to try on clothes because it made her feel depressed nor did she want to try on shoes (last time she tried some heels on, she got a broken ankle).

"Trust me, it'll be fun. We can even go into a book shop if you want." The American squinted as she tried to recall something. "Waterypebbles, we can go there. I know you like going there."

"Water_stones_," Alice laughed.

"Uh huh, there!" Amelia giggled.

Forgetting about their first lesson, the two set off to town. Alice was skipping school and she didn't even realise. She doubted that she would have cared even if she realised- she was with Amelia after all. Nothing mattered when she was with Amelia. When she was Amelia, Alice's world lilted slightly off its axis as she saw the world through optimistic, fun-loving eyes- Amelia's eyes.

**Oh my gosh, we're at chapter five already! Can I just take this milestone to thank everyone who is reading this fan-fiction; this is my first fan-fiction and I was very worried about how it would go down but I'm pleased to say it's been an absolutely amazing experience! I've loved getting all your reviews- thank you so much for taking the time to write them! Your opinions on my story mean so much to me, thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: This chapter contains homophobic bullying and moderate violence.**

The town was alive with voices; shouting and laughing filled the air. Alice followed the American's lead as the copper-haired girl pushed her way through the mass of people. Alice, who didn't like social situations at the best of times, was absolutely terrified- there were too many people for her liking, there were too many people for anyone's liking. She was being pushed and shoved backwards by the crowd who were equally trying to push their way through.

For the robust American, the situation was bearable- it was her English friend she was worried about. Casting an eye back to the blonde, Amelia felt a rush of protectiveness as she saw the thin girl being thrown in all directions by the movement of the crowd. She bit her lip, pondering what to do before reaching out and grabbing Alice's bony hand. The English girl looked up in surprise at Amelia's touch.

"Hold my hand and we can get out of the crowd, just don't let go!" The American's voice would be able to be heard over the rapture of the crowd had she whispered but she shouted anyway.

Alice nodded sharply, unable to speak. It was like the American's fingers had numbed her. Despite the ear-splitting hubbub of the crowd the only thing she could hear was the thudding of her heart, which threatened to burst out of her ribcage with its long, loud beats. Goosebumps erupted up her frail arms and all she could think about was Amelia's warm hand. It was so soft. As the American parted the crowd, her hand moved, which sent chills rushing up Alice's spine as the American's hand unintentionally caressed her own.

When they finally managed to push their way out of the mass of people and into one of the winding streets which broke off from the main street the American let go of Alice's hand and it dropped back to her side. The English girl wished that Amelia had held it longer and reluctantly, she drew it back to her own side though her hand was still in the same clasping position as if Amelia's hand had imprinted on her own. Amelia's walk was filled with joy and she almost skipped down the snake-shaped street; Alice followed behind in her usual pessimistic trudge and her mind seemed slightly detached from her body as she pondered the odd sensation she found herself feeling only moments ago. She knew very well that Amelia's actions weren't a result of anything kindness but a little bit of Alice wished that it had been something more than that.

The American slowed her walk so she and Alice were side by side. "Which shop do you wanna go into?"

"I don't mind."

"Alrighty, I'll decide. I'M THE HERO!"

Alice rolled her eyes.

"If I'm the hero, what do you want to be?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do you want to be?"

Alice glanced Amelia, whose face was lit up like a Christmas tree with her broad grin. Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Alice decided to play along. "I'll the... the Lady."

"We're supposed to be pretending... so what are you saying?"

"Lady as in the Lord and Lady, you twat. I'm not a man!"

"Yeah, but you _are _a Lady- Lady Alicia Kirkland- so you're still not pretending."

"I mean the kind of Lady you read about in a book who has beautiful dresses and a dozen admirers all desperate for her hand is marriage."

"I think you should be a princess,"

"A princess," Alice scoffed. "I wanted to be a princess when I was six- I'm seventeen now."

"You're kinda like a princess though."

"How?"

"Well you're pretty enough, I can tell you that."

Alice's heart skipped a beat and she felt her cheeks flush fuchsia. Was the American flirting with her? No, she passed the very idea off as simply wistful thinking but a little niggle of doubt pinched at her mind.

"Well it takes one to know one." The English girl returned the compliment, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the pavement in case the American saw how much more there was to Alice's words.

The American laughed, a little too loudly. "Well we got side-tracked didn't we! Back to the original subject, what do you say we to Topshop?"

"I've never even been in there before, but okay."

"Oh, where do you normally shop at?"

"I don't- mother just buys my clothes when she goes to buy some for herself."

The American nodded, trying to recall a time she'd seen Alice wearing anything other than the plaid Academy uniform. Through the vague mist of fragmented memory Amelia remembered Alice clad in a brown trouser suit and small, 2-inch heels. She also remembered the English girl looking very uncomfortable in the said clothes. She wondered what Alice really wanted to wear.

"D'ya like what she buys you? I'd hate it if my mom picked out my clothes. I don't see her anyway- she lives in Ontario and in the breaks Maddie lives with her- I live with my Dad." Amelia couldn't keep the sigh out of her voice. She wished she could see her sister more often- she was so shy at school.

"I don't mind what she buys me, I mean it's just clothes isn't it? I guess I'd prefer to wear more feminine clothing like dresses, for instance. I don't seem to look nice in any outfit, and I'm not trying to get attention or pity- it's just the truth."

"Well I don't think it's the truth. At least you don't look like a hooker in every outfit you wear, unlike myself." The American glanced down at her voluptuous chest and sent it a scowl.

Upon entering the clothes shop, the two girls browsed the racks; fingers flicking through the multitude of bright garments. Alice pretended to at least. She disliked the clothes, they were all too showy for her taste. What she was really looking for, she doubted would be in the shop nevertheless, she looked for it anyway.

Then she spotted it, hanging on the plastic frame of a coathanger. It was exactly as she imagined, almost angelic in its cloud-coloured cotton. Straight out of the dream was Amelia Jones' white cotton dress.

Letting out a gasp, Alice rushed over to it and held the soft material between her fingertips as if she were testing whether it was real or not.

"Found something?" The American called over from where she stood, a few clothes racks away.

"Yeah, I wanted you to try it, actually." Alice's words became stammered fragments.

"Sure," the American replied as she eyed up the garment held in the English girl's hands. She knew it wasn't her usual style, but headed off to the changing rooms regardless.

Alice's heart pounded in her chest. What was she thinking? Surely the American would suspect that the English girl's recommendation was more than a mere suggestion. She cursed herself under her breath, convinced that the secret she wasn't even sure was true was now something that the American was aware of. No, this was unfair, she decided. So what if she found out? What difference would it make?

Letting her eyes slide around the shop, she caught sight of movement outside the large windows. A gang of adolescents had formed a circle, presumably around someone. Eavesdropping had always been one of the English girl's unspoken talents and she listened out for the shouts of the gang.

"What are you going to do, Nazi? Are you gonna go back to Germany and tell your Hitler about us?"

"She probably fancies you, Kath."

"Urgh, you're making me sick."

"Bet she wants to kiss you."

"I've got a girlfriend, thanks. Even if I were single I wouldn't fancy you- I've got taste."

Alice's eyes widened at the instantly recognisable voice of the victim- the deep voice, weighed down by a strong German accent and the unspoken authority which sat on every syllable that escaped her mouth. It was Greta.

Racing outside, Alice Kirkland stood a few metres away from the gang. She wanted to help, she really did, but there were so many of them and only one of her. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Alice, Alice," a brown-haired Italian cried. "You're got to help! We were just walking and then all these people came up to us and started shouting at Greta. I ran away. Please help her, Alice, please!"

Tears dribbled down the girl's face and her eyes were flooded with fear. The expression on her face could only be described as desperation.

Alice marched over to the crowd and pushed her way through, much to the exclamation of the surrounding adolescents. Greta was stood in the middle, short blonde hair tingling with anger. She held a defensive stance- spreading her weight across her muscular body- and her hands, though sharp at her sides, were balled into tight fists.

Alice glared at the gang, who had formed an even tighter circle.

"Why are you insulting my friend?" Alice was surprised at the sound of her own voice- it was filled with authority and dripping with unspoken threat.

"Has the Nazi got another girlfriend?" The presumed Kath was right at the front of the ring. She wore a mask of makeup and her hairsprayed helmet of black hung over one side of her thin face. The pink flesh of her legs was exposed, clothed only by a red miniskirt; a white cropped t-shirt hung off her chest, which was thrust forward.

"I'm not her girlfriend, I'm her friend. I can understand why you might not understand that- friendship doesn't look like something you've ever experienced." Alice was shocked at how easy the comeback came to her. It rolled off her sharp tongue before she could stop it.

A chorus of sarcastic 'ooh's went around the circle of people, punctuated by the narcissistic laughs of several of the girls, who were dressed in the same fashion as Kath. Though she feigning amusement and nonchalance, Kath's mascara-laden eyes narrowed. She was not used to being made fun of.

"Just leave us alone." Greta sounded almost bored, which was when Alice realised that this was an experience which happened to the German all the time.

"Why? It's not our fault you're a freaking fag."

Alice's head snapped to the side as the heard the inhuman roar. Kath was sprawled on the tarmac and Greta stood over her, fist dripping with the crimson blood of Kath's face. The German's chest rose up and down with stilted, shallow breaths, distorted by rage.

The group scattered from their tight formation and flung themselves at random at the German, enraged at the attack of their apparent leader. Despite their numbers, Greta threw them off with such violence and ease that Alice knew that she wouldn't need to protect the German girl. She never counted on the possibility that she might get attacked herself.

A ginger girl threw herself at Alice and she staggered backwards out of surprise, falling onto the street. Before she had time to assess any damage, the girl was stood over her with a satisfied smile on her face. The redhead's fist collided with Alice's face and the British girl cried out as pain rippled through her body. Like sharks smelling blood, the gang members turned their heads to the sign of weakness before joining in the attack. Alice was overcome, she couldn't hear anything other than the sound of angry fists against her own body. Again and again, her face was pounded. Only one thought was able to scream through all the noise: would it ever stop?

Suddenly, the weight of the heavy fists disappeared. Alice looked up, barely breathing. Delivering a bone-crunching hit to one of Kath's minions, stood Anastasia Branginsky. The Russian girl's silver hair stuck to her face and her violet eyes were so angry it was like they were on fire.

Immediately, Alice dragged herself up from the ground. Her nose was bleeding and her head throbbed but she managed to stagger out of the fight. Without looking back, she fled.

**Well this was a long chapter! This is the last chapter I will upload before Christmas, so Merry Christmas from me! Also, please check out my best friend outside of 's Sherlock FanFiction! It's an awesome FanFiction so if you watch Sherlock check out her fic! As always, reviews are appreciated and constructive criticism is welcomed! **


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